


Switched

by timehopper



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 03:12:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9157684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timehopper/pseuds/timehopper
Summary: “Then do it,” he whispers, harsh and commanding and impatient. “The dragons will not wait forever. They must be sated.”Somehow, inexplicably, Hanzo and McCree get their ultimates mixed up after Mercy resurrects them. Written for the kink meme.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Overwatch kink meme. The prompt was as follows: 
> 
> "So something may of got shuffled during a respawn cause when Jesse McCree tells the time of day he wasnt expecting his lil ol'Peacemaker to unleash an entire fucking dragon let alone two entire fucking dragons. If that wasn't weird enough, Hanzo Shimada called his dragons to consume his foes but intead there was a near blinding stab of pain in his eye and a fucking tumbleweed in the middle of fucking Ilios like how the fuck and then surprise, a single scatter arrow had landed five perfect headshots without ricocheting once.
> 
> Everyone is confused, McCree is screaming as if being louder will make things make sense faster, and Hanzo is doing his best to stay standing while it feels like his eye is about to explode."
> 
> I may have gone a bit off-prompt, but hopefully this works anyway. Enjoy.

“ _Helden sterben nicht_!”

The two men groan and stand up as they feel the life slowly start to creep back into them. McCree is the first to regain his bearings, and he groggily turns to Mercy and tips his hat toward her. “Thank you kindly,” he says, voice thick and not quite recovered yet. Hanzo just barely hears him as his head clears. What he hears better is Genji in his ear, over the comm link, calling for help.

“I’m on my way!” Mercy says back, and she smiles at the two men. “Now you two be careful out there! I don’t want to have to come over here and fix you back up like that again.” Her tone is playful and teasing despite the exasperation with them. Hanzo just nods.

“Of course.”

“You be careful out there, too.”

“Will do!” She dashes off, then, leaving them behind to right themselves and get back to their posts.

It takes a moment for Hanzo to steady himself. When he does, McCree is rubbing absently at his chest. “Hey, Hanzo… something feel a little off t’you?” He asks.

Now that he stops to think about it, Hanzo _does_ feel a little bit strange, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. “Yes,” he answers, uncertainly. He feels... vacant. Almost empty. Like there’s something missing.

McCree just shrugs. “I’m sure it’s nothin’. Probably just the resurrection messin’ with us.”

“Hm.” Hanzo nods his agreement, and gives McCree one last parting nod before they go their separate ways.

He can’t shake the feeling of something being _wrong_ , though.

 

* * *

 

 

He’s positioned on the roof, watching the enemy regroup. There are only a few stragglers left in his location. “Checking in. My area is clear of enemies,” he hears. Genji.

“All clear on my end too!” Tracer cheers. “No, wait – Ah, nevermind! Got the bugger! Heading back to the payload now! McCree, how’s it going over there?”

Hanzo hears a chuckle and his stomach swoops. “Just about done. I don’t think these punks know what time it is. Guess it’s down to me to tell ‘em.”

“Quit fooling around and just do it already!” 76 sounds even more gravelly over the link. Hanzo has to fight not to laugh at the man’s exasperation.

Another laugh from McCree. “You got it, boss.” Hanzo can hear the shuffle of cloth over the link, the click of McCree’s gun as he raises and aims it. It’s like he’s there, watching him, seeing the cowboy’s eyes narrow as he focuses in on his targets. Then, finally, he says it: “ _It’s high noon.”_

Two gunshots. It won’t be his finest work, Hanzo muses briefly, but he’s sure it’ll get the job done. It always does. There’s nothing for him to worry about at all. Until –

**“Oh shit goddamn motherfucker what the goddamn fuck was that?!”**

There’s a strange rumbling noise over the link. “McCree! Are you okay?!” Hanzo yells before he can stop himself. The noise makes the Talon agents he was aiming his scatter arrow at look up. He curses under his breath and lets the arrow fly, but it’s too late. Two out of the seven of them fall, but the rest have guns trained on him. He runs as they start to fire.

“I’m on my way!” Mercy calls.

“Naw, naw, I’m fine, just – fuck --“

“Jesse, _what happened?”_ Hanzo manages to bark out as he narrowly avoids getting his head filled with lead. He turns and fires an arrow, lodging it in the closest Talon’s leg. His heart is pounding like mad against his chest, but whether it’s from adrenaline or worry he isn’t sure. He grits his teeth as he leaps from his perch and runs to scale the next building. “Answer!”

“D-Dragons,” McCree breathes. He’s panting, but there’s no sound of him running, no crack or rapid fire of bullets. He’s mostly likely still, catching his breath, and that relieves Hanzo somewhat. “Your dragons!”

The dragons… of course. McCree must have heard the gunfire over the comm. Ever the quick thinker even in spite of his own wounds. Hanzo smiles fondly and closes his eyes. “Yes. I will unleash them now.” He can feel something stir within him. It feels… different this time, somehow. He takes a deep breath. _Calm yourself,_ he thinks. _Calm them._

When Hanzo opens his eyes, he draws an arrow. “ _Ryuu ga waga teki wo kurau!”_

The world shifts into sharp focus just as piercing, stabbing pain creeps into him, centering on his eye. He clenches his teeth to stop himself crying out in pain, and just barely manages it before he lets his arrow loose and it splits (had he loaded a scatter arrow?), taking down the four remaining agents where they stand.

He howls in pain and collapses to his knees, bow dropped and hands coming up to clench his eye. It’s _searing_. The pain is stronger than any he’s felt in his life, and it holds him in place. He can’t even comprehend the worried voices of his teammates through it. He just cries out until they find him – he doesn’t know how long it takes – and it’s Mercy, Mercy and McCree who get to him first. He can hear them talking, though he doesn’t look up.

McCree falls to his knees and wraps his arms around Hanzo. “Darlin’ – darlin’, you okay?” He asks, voice low and soothing. The pain is starting to ebb now that Mercy is here, and finally Hanzo looks up, one hand still covering his eye. McCree’s expression shifts from concern to hard understanding. He says nothing for a second, and then, finally, he grunts, “Deadeye.”

Hanzo says nothing until Mercy finishes her healing. There’s still some throbbing, but Hanzo knows he’s no longer injured, so he looks up at her and says “Thank you,” hating how strained his voice is.

“You’re welcome,” she responds. “But I must be off now. The payload has been delivered and Talon has been cleared out. I must go tend to the others, so I will see you after to find out just what has happened here.”

“Gotcha loud and clear,” McCree says. He lifts his hand to wave her off. Hanzo simply lets loose a tense breath and relaxes into McCree’s hold. The cowboy pushes the stray lock of hair out of Hanzo’s eyes. “How you holdin’ up, darlin’?”

“What happened?” Hanzo asks in lieu of an answer. “The dragons – they –“

“Got me out of a real pinch.” McCree’s interruption does nothing to calm Hanzo; in fact, it agitates him even further.

“What do you mean?”

“Shh.” McCree’s hand caresses his cheek. “Calm down, babe. Looks like we just…” he pauses, at a loss for a moment. “Switched.”

“…Switched.”

“Yeah.” He frowns, chews his cigar. “Tried firin’ Deadeye back there, but your dragons came out instead. I’m guessin’ the same happened to you. Tried unleashin’ ‘em, only to get a whole lot of pain for your troubles?”

Hanzo nods, slowly. “I used your ability.” It isn’t a question, just a statement of understanding.

“Yep.” McCree’s frown turns soft, then shifts into a small smile. He looks like he’s trying not to laugh. It’s pretty and infuriating all rolled together.

 “You feel that every time?” Hanzo asks instead of calling his lover out on mocking him. He reaches up and gently touches under McCree’s eye, running his thumb over the skin. He can’t help but notice the wrinkles that have formed there.

“Not so bad anymore,” McCree admits. “You get used to it. But you weren’t expecting it, so it must’ve been a hell of a shock.”

“You could say that.” Hanzo shifts and retracts his hand, moving it down to McCree’s neck, fingers trailing over the pulse point. He can feel the man’s heart beating fast – faster than normal. He feels unusually warm, too. It’s electric, almost. He thinks of the dragons. Are they what’s causing this?

As if reading his mind, McCree huffs a half-laugh. “So I’m guessin’ I got your dragons inside me right about now. Then lemme ask you – they always like this?”

Hanzo raises an eyebrow. “Like what?” He has an inkling, and he tries not to look too amused. He wants to hear McCree say it.

He gets more than he bargained for as McCree pushes him down roughly, pinning him in place and practically climbing on top of him. Instinctively, Hanzo reaches to put his hands on either side of McCree’s waist. He can’t fight the grin that breaks out on his face – it grows wide, almost as predatory as McCree’s own.

“Burning.” He crashes his lips to Hanzo’s, wasting no time in thrusting his tongue in. The cigar is long gone, but Hanzo can still taste it on his lover’s tongue. “Fired up.” He kisses him again, hungrily. “Fillin’ you up with so much heat you can’t stand it.”

Hanzo surges up to meet him. “ _Yes_ ,” he hisses between quick, deep, hungry kisses. “Always.”

McCree pulls away and puts a hand to Hanzo’s neck. He squeezes, hard enough to apply pressure, but not hard enough to cut off any air flow. “It’s amazin’ you can keep yourself under control, then,” he grunts. Hanzo can feel McCree growing hard above him, grinding down onto his own steadily-firming cock. “It’s takin’ all I have not to tear your clothes off here and now and pound into you like there ain’t gonna be a tomorrow.”

Hanzo’s eyes narrow as his grin turns very nearly feral. He moves his hand to fist in McCree’s hair and tugs it, forcing the taller man’s face closer to his. “Then do it,” he whispers, harsh and commanding and impatient. “The dragons will not wait forever. They must be sated.”

McCree moans at that and lets Hanzo pull him down roughly for another kiss. His hips jerk as he ruts against his lover from above, and soon Hanzo is thrusting up to meet him too. “The dragons, huh?” McCree laughs and switches gears, moving to kiss and bite along Hanzo’s neck. There’s an urgency there, a hunger Hanzo is all too familiar with. His head falls back and he sucks in a breath, hands grasping at McCree’s hair, his shirt, his serape, anything they can reach. He pulls the serape off and McCree doesn’t so much as flinch; he just keeps sucking at Hanzo’s neck, hands roaming his half-exposed chest. He slips his hand under the cloth and thumbs over Hanzo’s nipple, earning a groan in response.

“Like that, don’t you, babe?” The cowboy is practically purring and it’s driving Hanzo crazy. He pinches and Hanzo gasps, fingers tightening where they’ve managed to grab on to McCree’s sleeves. Through the haze, Hanzo notes (somewhat irritably) that McCree is still wearing his breastplate, and it’ll be more pain than it’s worth to take it off. He growls and decides not to bother with the shirt anymore; there are more _pressing_ things to attend to, like McCree’s pants, which Hanzo unbuttons as deftly as he can despite the awkward position he’s in.

“Fuck, Hanzo, you really can’t wait for me to fuck you, can you?” McCree’s lips are at his ear and he bites down on the archer’s earlobe. Hanzo just undoes McCree’s belt and starts to tug his pants down. “You don’t even care we’re sittin’ on a roof in the middle of a city, do you?”

“Perhaps if you do not slow down to talk,” Hanzo says, as carefully as he can, smirking up at McCree as he slides himself further under the cowboy, “We will be able to finish this before someone finds us.”

Before he can get an answer out of McCree, Hanzo lifts his head and presses his lips to the underside of McCree’s now-exposed cock. He sucks lightly at the base at first, then slowly moves up, sliding his tongue along it. When he reaches the head, he pulls it into his mouth and moans around it. McCree twitches above him. “Fuck, yes, darlin’, that’s—“

But Hanzo cuts him off with a sharp suck and a slap to his ass. He sucks insistently, letting McCree thrust into his mouth and doing his best to suppress his gag reflex. He can’t help himself; McCree feels so good in his mouth, sliding against his tongue, hitting the back of his throat. He moves in and out so _easily._

Hanzo’s eyes are tearing up by the time he finally pulls away, partially from strain, and though he won’t admit it, he thinks it probably has something to do with Deadeye’s lingering effects. Above him, McCree finally learns how to breathe again, and looks down at him with flushed face and trickles of sweat catching in his beard.

Maybe it’s the enhanced vision of Deadeye again, but Hanzo swears he’s never seen anything more attractive in his life.

He moves out from under McCree and removes his boots, then his pants. His shirt is hanging loose off of him; he decides that it’ll just have to stay, since they’re already running on borrowed time. He gets on his knees and turns away from McCree, presenting himself. To his credit, Jesse wastes no time in gathering himself and pushing against Hanzo, chest to back. A hand comes up to Hanzo’s lips and two finger slip past them – flesh, not metal, he notes as he sucks on them, while the other squeezes his ass. “Good,” McCree purrs again. Hanzo can feel his lover’s cock pressing between his thighs. It’s still a little bit wet, and the realization makes his own cock twitch in anticipation. He rocks against McCree, pressing his legs together around the cowboy’s dick and moving it, slowly, between them. As he does, McCree moans, and finally takes his fingers out of Hanzo’s mouth to put them where the archer wants.

It hurts a little bit at first, and Hanzo wishes they had something better than spit to work with as lube, but he doesn’t dare complain when he’s so close to being fucked. One finger enters, then another, and soon McCree is thrusting them in and out of Hanzo, slowly, a little painfully, just enough to stretch him. It’s taking far too long for Hanzo’s liking. Eventually, he glares at McCree over his shoulder, not caring that the heat on his face and at the tips of his ears is probably diminishing the threat. He knows he’s got McCree right where he wants him now. He can tell by the way he’s gawking. “Jesse, are you going to fuck me or not?”

McCree very nearly snarls as he pulls his fingers out of Hanzo and flips him over again, lifting his legs and lining his cock up with Hanzo’s ass. He spits onto his flesh hand and spreads it over his dry dick, and it’s just barely enough to soothe the burn as he pushes himself inside all in one go.

They waste no time after that. McCree starts up with a steady rhythm, Hanzo pushing back to meet him at every thrust. He rests his legs on McCree’s shoulders and McCree unties his ponytail to tangle fingers in Hanzo’s hair. They kiss, deeply, tongues sliding against one another desperately, and the two men don’t part for air until McCree hits that one spot in Hanzo, making him see stars. He cries out, lifting a hand up to bite down on the back of his forearm. McCree grins and angles himself to keep hitting that same spot. “That’s it,” McCree says, and his breath in Hanzo’s ear makes the archer shudder and moan and clench down on his lover’s dick.

McCree hisses out a breath and catches Hanzo’s earlobe between his teeth, tugging at it. It hurts, but it’s perfect; Jesse feels so good, so wonderful inside and outside him. He comes further and further unraveled with every thrust. “Yes, Jesse, more,” he slurs whenever he has the chance to form words. “So good, you’re so good, don’t stop. Please, _more._ ”

McCree is all too happy to oblige, and he starts moving faster, pushing in harder.  All the pain in his eye is forgotten as he’s pulled forcefully on to McCree’s dick, vision white with ecstasy. When Hanzo thinks he can’t possibly take anymore, he grips his own cock and starts stroking it, urging himself quickly to orgasm.

At the last second, McCree, bringing his human hand to meet Hanzo’s and help coax him through it. Soon Hanzo is spilling himself into both their hands, biting down hard enough on his arm to leave red welts just to stifle the cry he knows will be heard anyway. He clenches down on McCree as the cowboy thrusts into his prostate once, twice more, and then shudders and comes himself, twitching as he releases his seed into his lover.

They collapse against one another, both gasping for breath, but smiling in the afterglow of orgasm. Hanzo’s hands come up to wrap around McCree and he kisses the juncture between jaw and neck, just where McCree’s scruffy beard ends.

“Better?” he whispers. He gets a small laugh in response.

“Almost.” McCree moves to kiss Hanzo again, and they lie there like that for a moment, lips locked and tongues lazily moving together. Soon – too soon, to Hanzo – McCree lifts himself up and adjusts his pants and belt. He grabs his discarded serape and wraps it around himself, then reaches over to pick up Hanzo’s boots and hand them to him.

“Those dragons of yours are mighty frisky,” he says. “If you don’t get yourself fixed up soon I think I’m gonna have to jump you again.”

“Would that be so bad?” Hanzo smirks at McCree but does as is asked anyway. He fixes his clothes carefully, never breaking eye contact, and relishes in the way McCree licks his lips slowly as he watches. When he stands, McCree follows, and walks over to him to kiss him again.

“Right. We should probably head back to the others about now, see if we can’t figure out how to right this mess.” His voice is low, still gruff. Hanzo feels his gut tighten; even without the dragons, he still has a hard time controlling himself around McCree.

He pushes the feeling aside and takes Jesse’s hand. The two of them make their way down the stairs leading to the roof, and when they emerge from the building, McCree halts, eyes wide and disbelieving.

“What is it?” Hanzo asks. He follows McCree’s gaze and blanches.

“Hanzo, is that a fucking _tumbleweed_? In the middle of _Numbani?”_

It is. Jesse whistles lowly. “God damn, you’re good.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this and are interested in seeing more or even just having a chat, feel free to contact and/or follow me on twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r), my [personal tumblr](http://therealhousewivesofhyrule.tumblr.com/), or if you're just interested in my Overwatch stuff then at my [Overwatch sideblog](http://naptimefornaughtyrobots.tumblr.com/).
> 
> I also have a [writing blog](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com) where I post progress, WIPs, and take requests. Please check that out if you'd like to see more!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and supporting me. ♥


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